


What Lovers Do

by SecondhandStockholm



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Angst, Character Study, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Mpreg, Relationship Study, Slow Burn, but not Omegaverse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-04
Updated: 2019-11-04
Packaged: 2021-01-23 04:28:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21314173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SecondhandStockholm/pseuds/SecondhandStockholm
Summary: Fisk was also possessive. Dominating. If he knew of his own impending fatherhood, Wesley was not sure he knew how the man would react. He did not anticipate violence, but Fisk was unpredictable. For all the years he had known him, he still managed to surprise him. In ordinary circumstances, Wesley found the trait admirable. It indicated power. Wesley longed for ordinary circumstances.
Relationships: Wilson Fisk/James Wesley
Comments: 8
Kudos: 45





	What Lovers Do

**Author's Note:**

> Well I wrote another mpreg. God help me. I meant to publish this as one big 10k chapter but my progress on this is so slow and to be honest I'm still not sure how the ending is going to go, though I am planning on it being one more chapter, around 5k words. 
> 
> Anyway, enjoy this idea that popped into my head months ago. Title's from "All I Ask" by Adele. Listen to it for a good cry. Let me know what you think.

If Fisk had noticed a difference, he hadn’t said anything. Not that Wesley particularly expected him to, the man was important, distinguished, and had far more pressing matters to attend to than stopping his very busy schedule to make sure his right hand man was feeling up to code.

And he was.

Really.

Nausea could be written off as stress. Lord knows Wesley has experienced more than his fair share of anxiety what with his chosen profession. Dizziness was, following his previous reasoning, likely due to him skipping breakfast. Exhaustion was honestly to be expected what with the intensive requirements Fisk tasked him. Not that he was complaining. Wesley was never anything less than honored to get to spend his days assisting the greatest man he had ever met. If it worried Wesley that exhaustion had never been a concern before, he did not dwell on it. He had work to do. 

\--

It happened in one of his boss’s lux apartments, during a morning briefing of the day’s itinerary. He had experienced another bout of nausea that morning, but managed to power through it. Wesley was determined not to let a small bug or lurking anxiety slow him down.

Wesley’s body, seemingly, had less qualms about interrupting his boss than his mind did. 

“Leland called and requested a rescheduling of this morning’s meeting. I told him that a cancellation at such short notice was unacceptable, and-”

A sudden wave of nausea came out of nowhere, momentarily distracting Wesley enough to forget all he had previously been saying. The silence stretched on. 

Fisk turned from his appreciative viewing of the skyline of New York to focus on his assistant.

Wesley swallowed, steeling himself.

“Apologies, sir. As I was saying, I told Leland that…” He was fighting a losing battle. But Wesley was determined not to lose it all over his boss’s wooden floor.

“Wesley, is everything alright?”

Wesley nodded, but he could not meet his boss’s eye for more than a fleeting moment. 

“Please, excuse me.” Wesley forced himself not to rush out of the room. He could feel Fisk’s eyes on him, calculating. The man was intimidating not only due to his strength. He was wickedly perceptive. 

Wesley barely made it into the restroom off the main hall before he was heaving into the sink. What came up was largely stomach acid, made a lovely dark brown due to the tea Wesley had forced himself to drink that morning. The smell made Wesley heave more. His stomach cramped and the force of it made tears run down Wesley’s face. When he was confident the nausea had quelled for the moment, he straightened, resting his hands against the marble counter. He ran the faucet and splashed cool water on his face, willing the redness to fade. After fixing his hair and suit, he took a deep breath and, centering himself, returned to face Fisk.

Fisk was waiting at the table when Wesley returned. He did not appear perturbed by Wesley’s abrupt exit, but the man was skillful at hiding his emotions if he chose to.

Wesley could not think of a reason Fisk would do so at the moment. If he was angry at Wesley, he would surely show it now, while the issue was apparent. Wesley determined that Fisk had let the moment go. Another example of his boss’s kind nature. 

“Forgive me, sir. I was momentarily indisposed. I am fine now. I can assure you it won’t happen again.”

Fisk was momentarily silent, contemplative, before answering.

“In all the time I have known you Wesley, all the time you have served by my side, you have never been...indisposed.”

Perhaps Wesley had dismissed Fisk’s intentions too soon. He steeled himself for some form of reprimand, but held his tongue. His employer did not take kindly to being interrupted.

“I want you to go home, Wesley. Rest.”

At that, Wesley had to object. 

“Sir-”

“Do not come back until you are well.”

And with that, Wesley had no choice but to obey. The command left no room to argue without going against his boss’s orders. He had no intention of doing so.

“Very well, sir.” He nodded once to Fisk, a prestigious but informal goodbye, and turned around.

\--

Wesley considered going to a doctor, but ultimately decided against it. If he was to return to Fisk’s side as soon as possible, he could not risk the chance of being diagnosed with a real illness and having no choice but to stay home. He could not in good conscience expose his employer to any disease he had knowledge of. 

Decided, Wesley instructed the driver to stop at a pharmacy. Wesley walked the aisles, hoping an assortment of over-the-counter pills would finally get rid of whatever affliction plagued him. 

He paused when he reached the pregnancy tests. 

Wesley was aware of his ability to conceive. Had been aware since puberty, when his mother took him to a doctor to assess his sudden intense cramping. After an ultrasound and less-than-pleasant physical exam, the doctor had explained to Wesley and his concerned mother that certain biological males were capable of pregnancy, and that, while medical science had not yet pinpointed an exact reasoning, they could trace the gene to a common ancestor who lived thousands of years earlier. 

At the time, Wesley had dismissed the entire idea as something he wouldn’t have to worry about for a long time. Possibly ever. He rarely formed attachments to peers and had yet to feel any notion of attraction or “love” that seemed to consume the thoughts of other children his age. 

Now the idea seemed much less hypothetical. Wesley was not particularly familiar with the ins and outs of pregnancy, so to speak. If he needed to know, he would look it up. He was a fast learner. His limited knowledge did include symptoms like nausea and fatigue. Which could be indicative of a million things.

Pregnancy being one of them.

Sighing, Wesley grabbed a test. Hesitating briefly, he grabbed another. 

\--

Forty minutes later, Wesley was sitting on his bed with two pregnancy tests to his left.

Two positive pregnancy tests.

He was staring at the wall opposite his bed, trying to sort out his emotions and thoughts as efficiently as possible. Wesley was nothing if not efficient. Whether or not he kept the child, there would have to be serious changes made. Termination was certainly the easiest option, in terms of physical work to be done. He honestly had no clue what the emotional ramifications would be. Wesley had not given it much thought, but he would consider himself in the camp of pro-choice. What business was it of his who did what with their body? Of course, it was much easier to objectively advocate for the choice of others when you thought it would never affect you. 

Paternity wasn’t a question. There was only ever one man. Only ever the one time. Fisk had been agitated, distracted. Wesley was attentive to his needs. He refused to allow himself to consider their encounter as anything more than a means to an end: Fisk needed a distraction, and Wesley aimed to please. Afterwards, neither of them mentioned it. Fisk, after all, had more important things to devote his attention to. The man was popular with many audiences.

But Fisk was also possessive. Dominating. If he knew of his own impending fatherhood, Wesley was not sure he knew how the man would react. He did not anticipate violence, but Fisk was unpredictable. For all the years he had known him, he still managed to surprise him. In ordinary circumstances, Wesley found the trait admirable. It indicated power. Wesley longed for ordinary circumstances.

By the end of his rumination, the sun had set, and dusk had settled over the city. Wesley’s stomach protested to its emptiness, seemingly having forgotten its own previous aversion to food. Wesley wandered into his kitchen in search of something to eat. Opening his pantry, a small frown marred his face. He needed to buy groceries. Had needed to for a while, but Fisk kept him busy, no task unimportant. Prioritization was a constant demand. Food never landed high on the list. 

He had noticed his suits had gotten a little looser. He did some math in his head. Him and Fisk had been five weeks ago. He didn’t know a lot about pregnancy, but he knew his suits wouldn’t stay loose for much longer. 

\--

The next morning he woke later than usual. A quick glance at his clock shot a jolt of panic through his body before he remembered he had nowhere to be. He stretched, enjoying the pleasant pull of his muscles. Recalling the previous evening, Wesley considered his options for the future.  
He had decided the night before not to tell Fisk until he was certain he was going to keep it. A quick search on his phone told him that abortions could be performed in New York until 24 weeks. That left him with about four months, a little less. He did not particularly like the idea of waiting that long to make a decision, but the thought of deciding now was equally unappealing. 

Scrolling through his phone, Wesley found the number of his physician. He called the appointment office, hoping there would be a last minute cancellation. 

Two hours later, a nurse was taking his vitals. Wesley was deep in thought, and was mostly nodding at the nurse’s attempt at small talk. It wasn’t until the nurse mentioned his weight that his focus was pulled.

“You’re underweight. Have you recently been sick?” 

Wesley smiled, hoping it looked convincing. “You could say that.”

Doctor Yung wasn’t unkind by any means, but he had a certain briskness that Wesley appreciated. He didn’t waste time on chit chat, he was a busy man and he extended his clients the courtesy of the same assumption. It was this quality that Wesley found so appealing. 

He was starting to rethink that judgement when, not ten minutes after the nurse left with a blood sample, Doctor Yung walked into the room, shook Wesley’s hand, sat in his chair, and promptly said “You’re pregnant.”

Wesley blinked. “I’m aware.” 

“So you’re here for a checkup.” Yung nodded. “Good. Taking care of your health is more important than ever now. Have you made a decision as to termination?”

The bluntness of the question threw Wesley for a loop. “I’m not entirely sure, no. But I figured getting information as to my condition would be beneficial either way.” 

Yung turned to type something into his computer. “Smart idea. Staying informed is always my recommendation.” He turned towards Wesley. 

“I can give you a checkup today and some baseline information, but I’m a general practitioner. I don’t have a specialty in obstetrics. I’m not completely in the dark, mind you, I did go to medical school, but I’d recommend finding an obstetrician you trust. I’ll give you a referral to one I know, she specializes in male pregnancies.” 

Wesley nodded. 

After typing for a few moments on the computer, Yung stood up and instructed Wesley to lay down. 

Yung walked to the wall, pumping sanitizer into his hands. Wesley watched him, trying to ignore the crinkling of the paper he was laying on.

Finally Yung turned to him. “Pull your shirt up, please.” 

Wesley obliged, pulling up his cardigan. His abdomen was flat, almost concave at that angle, and Yung pressed his hands into it, clinical and professional but not rough. 

“Any pain?” Wesley shook his head. Yung withdrew his hands and leaned against the counter. 

“The blood test confirmed the pregnancy, but it won’t tell us how far along you are. Since I’m a general practitioner, I don’t have an ultrasound machine. Going by your size, you’re clearly in the first trimester, but your first appointment with an OB will give you a good estimate of your due date.”

“I’m five weeks.” Wesley stated. He didn’t need an ultrasound to tell him that.

“Unless you used a condom every time but that one, there’s no way to be sure. Even then, condoms have a margin of error-”

“There was only the one time.” Wesley hated to cut Yung off, rude behavior was not something he liked, but he didn’t need any more reminders of how screwed he was. His relationship with Fisk was a professional one. They had come to think of each other as friends, but Wesley never allowed himself to believe it would grow into anything more than that.

Yung nodded. “Okay. So five weeks. It’s pretty normal for people to find out they’re pregnant around that time. I take it you’re having symptoms? Nausea, fatigue?”

Wesley nodded. “Yes and yes. Started about a week ago. I took a test yesterday.” 

Yung pulled out a business card and scribbled something on the back.

“This is Doctor Brown’s office number. I’d recommend scheduling an appointment soon for two weeks from now.”

Wesley took the card. 

“That’s all for today from me, but I’ll have the nurses give you some pamphlets before you leave so you can know all your options.”

Wesley thanked him, and he left. Gathering his things, Wesley texted his driver and let him know he was ready to be picked up. 

Ten minutes later, Wesley was in the back of the car. Looking at his phone, Wesley couldn’t help but notice the suspicious lack of notifications. Usually there were calls, texts, and emails frequently throughout the day. Fisk must’ve said something. The thought made Wesley feel warm.

Debating his options, Wesley hovered over his employer’s name. He would rather be at work than worrying all day. Work left him too busy for his mind to wander. He listened as the phone rang before he was greeted by the familiar rumble of Fisk’s voice.

“Wesley.”

“Sir. I’m calling to inform you I’m ready to return to work.”

There was silence for a moment on the other end.

“If you are confident you are well enough to return, I won’t stop you.” 

“Thank you, sir.” He thanked Fisk, before hanging up.

\--

Apprehensively, Wesley smoothed down his suit jacket. A nervous gesture, he knew. It wasn’t as if he was showing already. Completely irrational, which was not an adjective Wesley desired to attribute to himself. 

He smoothed it down again.

Wesley stepped out of his apartment, eyes scanning for the car he had sent for. Upon spotting the sleek black BMW, he got in, eyes closing as he took a deep breath once inside. The drive to his boss’s high-rise took a little over half an hour, so he had time to think.

A treacherous voice in the back of his mind told him he shouldn’t be making any decisions without Fisk’s input. His instinct was to please his boss, and he had no experience separating his personal life from his professional. 

Though to be honest, they were one in the same. 

As the car pulled up to the valet entrance, Wesley had decided to make a decision as to his pregnancy by the end of the week. He saw no sense in drawing it out any longer than was potentially necessary. 

Besides, if he did decide to abort- although the word left a bad taste in his mouth- he would much rather stop being pregnant sooner than later. He wasn’t particularly fond of the side effects. 

In the elevator up to Fisk’s floor, Wesley took a moment to center himself, lest he alert his boss that anything was amiss. 

God forbid.

-

Three days later is when it all fell apart.

Wesley had still yet to decide on a solution, and had resolved himself to suffer the pains of pregnancy until at least the point at which he had made a decision one way or the other. 

His nausea had gripped him relentlessly, and it was by some small miracle that Fisk had yet to catch Wesley throwing up into the nearest trash can. 

The pamphlets he had read told him that he would not need to increase his caloric intake until the second trimester, but cautioned against losing weight. Wesley thought the people who wrote that should try keeping food down with as nauseous as he was. 

That morning he had skipped breakfast, which he knew he wasn’t supposed to do, but the thought of food was nauseating. He was starting to regret it as his hands couldn’t stop shaking. He clasped his hands behind his back so as not to let Fisk see. 

He listened as Fisk and Leland spoke, quiet but no less attentive. Leland had just made a remark that left Fisk bristling when the room started to spin. Wesley took a deep breath, willing the dizziness away.

It didn’t work. 

It was only a moment later that everything went black. 

-

When Wesley awoke, it was to a bright light. He winced and the light was gone. He registered that he was laying down. He heard voices swimming above him, but it took him a moment to focus in on them. 

“-shouldn’t be any long term side effects. Obviously I don’t have all my equipment here, but from my examination neither he nor the fetus was harmed.”

Wesley blanched.

“Keep an eye on him for a few days, don’t let him go home alone. If you notice anything like confusion, dizziness or fatigue beyond what would be normal at this stage in his pregnancy, don’t hesitate to call.”

Fisk nodded, and Wesley noticed that he had his hands bunched up in his lap. 

Silence settled over the room after the doctor left.

Wesley knew he should speak, should clarify his line of reasoning as soon as possible. He saw from the look in his boss’ eyes that his brain was picking apart the entire situation, drawing as many conclusions as possible. 

And yet, he couldn’t will himself to speak. Fisk was the first to break the silence.

“The child is mine.”

It wasn’t a question. His tone left no room for argument.

Wesley remained silent.

“You chose to keep it from me.” 

Also not a question. Wesley hoped he didn’t look as distraught as he felt. He looked at the floor, fixated on Fisk’s oxfords. 

“Wesley.” He couldn’t disobey direct orders. He knew what was being asked of him. He looked up at his boss, the man who had so thoroughly changed his life. 

“I’m sorry” was all he managed to get out, voice uncharacteristically shaky. His face flamed as he realized he was close to tears. This kind of behavior was unacceptable around Fisk, yet he could not begin to get himself in check.

He looked up only when he felt a large, rough hand slip into his, squeezing firmly. Fisk’s eyes were inscrutable, not calculating but definitely not relaxed. He was looking at Wesley with what could only be described as curiosity. 

He’d only looked at him like that once before. 

It was the night they slept together. After, Wesley rolled over and sat up, reaching for his dress shirt. He knew better than to overstay his welcome. A movement on the other side of the bed caught his attention, and he glanced behind him to see Fisk laying on his side, propped up by an elbow. He was looking at him, inquisitive. Wesley fought the urge to blush.

Strange, how intimate it felt to be looked at by the man, after what they’d just done.

It made him no less nervous to be pinned by the look the second time around. It made him feel younger than he had any right to feel. Naughty, somehow, and not in a fun way.  
“Do you intend to keep the child?” Fisk asked, tone guarded.

Wesley didn’t know what to say. He wanted to give Fisk the answer that would make him happy, make this seem like less of a betrayal, but he had no clue what answer would please his boss.

“I-”

“You are not past the point of termination, according to the doctor, but I would...ask you to reconsider.”

Wesley tried to keep his face from displaying the shock he felt.

“Sir-”

“I never thought children were in the cards for me.” Fisk sat forward, looking to the world as a man in confessional. His shoulders are hunched, and he’s got an odd demeanor about him- reticent, but meek. He was embarrassed. “I thought my path was clear, but now that this...child...has presented itself, I feel as though I have been blessed with opportunity.”

Wesley was torn between slipping into his assistant persona, rushing to reassure Fisk, and saying nothing. 

“I hadn’t decided to get an abortion.” Wesley admits, quitely. 

Fisk looks up, his eyes gleaming with what could akin to hope, though it is guarded.

“It would interfere with my work.” Wesley says, though he feels like he’s fighting a losing battle.

“I would expect it to.” So that’s that. Fisk is willing to be lenient, offering to. Asking Wesley to keep their child, though every logical part of his brain screams at him that it’s a bad idea. It seems like a scenario Wesley would only imagine in the back of his mind, where his desires lay dormant. 

Wesley wanted to ask Fisk what having his child meant. What it would do to their relationship. Before he knew he was pregnant, it was much easier to not acknowledge the sex they had. There was nothing that lead to that conversation. Now, with a baby in the picture, it’s all forced front and center.

And yet Fisk offered nothing more. Wesley knew he didn’t have it in him to speak up, to ask Fisk if he desired him or just the progeny growing inside him. So neither party spoke. 

They sat in comfortable silence, Wesley faintly dazed by the day’s events, hand barely touching his stomach, Fisk seated close by, broad thumb stroking the back of Wesley’s hand, back and forth, back and forth.


End file.
